Christmas Presents
by ShiningCity
Summary: One-Shot: Katniss tells Peeta "Real" on Christmas Eve


**_Hello, dear readers!_ _Here's a little Christmas present I've been working on for the Everlark fandom! It's basically how I imagine the "Real or Not Real" scene in Mockingjay going if it happened on Christmas Eve. Hope you all enjoy and have a merry Christmas!_**

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The floor creaked loudly as I snuck back up the stairs and I silently cursed myself for my lack of stealth. I must be getting out of practice. Winter had arrived early this year and I hadn't been out hunting for over a month now. I missed it, but these cozy days with Peeta had been slowly and steadily healing my shattered heart and fractured mind.

As I reached the second floor, I crept back toward my bedroom to find Peeta still asleep in the bed there, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath the white cotton t-shirt he always wore to sleep in. My bare feet were getting cold again after leaving Peeta's heat in the bed a little while ago and I couldn't wait to intertwine my legs with his to warm them back up.

It was Christmas Eve. We had been growing back together since his return from the Capitol and the end of the war. I was finally getting to a place where I no longer just thought about myself and got swallowed in my own grief. Peeta - and Haymitch even, though involuntarily - had been teaching me that the best way to honor the memory of those we'd lost was to live in the best way we could. In trying to live this way, I had opened my heart for the first time since my father died.

I crawled under the warm blankets, trying not to wake Peeta, but he stirred anyway, adjusting his position to cradle me in his arms as I laid my head down on his chest, hearing his steady heart beat. He kissed me softly on the top of my head and I felt warmth flush my cheeks, heat radiating from where his lips had touched me.

As the coziness of the bed and the safety of Peeta's arms beckoned me back to sleep, I smiled to myself. Everything was ready for Peeta's surprise tomorrow. I drifted off to thoughts of his smiling face and his lips on mine.

Blood. Mutts. Broken bodies. Murdered children. Flames. All of these plagued my nightmare as I screamed and thrashed to break free of it. When Peeta finally coaxed me to consciousness, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his hands running through my now knotted and messy hair, his mouth close to my ear whispering soothing words. I began to cry. It seemed that even on Christmas Eve - now very early Christmas morning - that I couldn't achieve a dreamless sleep.

Peeta pulled me closer to him, now planting gentle kisses on my forehead and tear-stained cheeks. His lips had recently started bringing me comfort just as much as his arms did when I woke up from a nightmare. So when his lips brushed against my own in a feathery-light kiss, my tears immediately subsided, because the immense feeling I experienced when he kissed me left no room for anything else.

Without thinking of where this could lead, I tentatively leaned up to kiss him again, more fully this time. He kissed me back, but I think he was just trying to comfort me, he didn't realize that I wanted more. But how could he know that when I had only recently realized it myself?

His lips relaxed against mine as he started to pull away, but I drew closer, maintaining the connection between our mouths. I took his face in my hands and moved my mouth against his, letting him know that I didn't want to stop kissing him. He hesitated only for a moment before he kissed me back warmly, our tongues reaching out for each other.

We breathed in sharply between deep kisses and our hands roamed each other's backs. I let my hands slip under his t-shirt and heard the faintest of moans escape from somewhere deep in his throat.

His own hands knotted into my hair and held me firmly. The remnants of my nightmare had now entirely slipped away, getting pushed out by the jumbled thoughts Peeta's lips caused as they trailed down my neck.

Sighs left my own swollen lips and tingles ran through my body as I felt his warm tongue flick against the sensitive skin between his lips.

That hunger that I'd felt on the beach in the Quarter Quell arena returned with a vengeance. The word _desire_ flitted through my mind amongst the other jumbled thoughts all revolving around Peeta and the way he was making me feel right now.

He suddenly shifted his body over mine and I realized with a bit of surprise that I could feel his own desire for me pressing against my leg through his flannel pajama pants. I practically waited to feel my instinctual panic, but apparently new instincts were setting in. Instead of panic, I felt heat pool between my legs and, before I realized what I was doing, was arching up to feel more of the friction.

"Katniss," he moaned out when his erection pressed particularly hard against my core.

I echoed his own name back to him, revelling in the feel of him there. The desire I was feeling now was easily overcoming what I'd felt on the beach.

I reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor before I reached my arms around him to discover how the bare skin of his back felt against the palms of my hands. I could feel his taut muscles under my fingertips as he worked to hold himself up. My lips reached for his neck and he let out a breathy sigh as I nipped and sucked at the saltiness the sweat had caused.

Curiosity was dangerous when coupled with desire. I now had to know how his bare skin would feel pressed against mine. So, I pushed my hand against his chest, gently urging him back so I wouldn't hit him in the face as I pulled my warm nightshirt over my head.

I rarely wore a bra, let alone wore one to bed, so everything was bare before him. My small breasts with their dark, pert peaks. The fresh exposure to the cool air seemed to make them tighten further, almost as if they were reaching for Peeta.

His eyes somehow went darker than they already were as he took me in.

"So beautiful," I heard him murmur, before he slowly and reverently lowered his head to my chest.

I vaguely wondered what he was going to do, but let out a breathy sigh as I felt his lips leaving feathery-light kisses against my breasts and one of his hands came up to gently skim the underside of one.

Every time his lips drew close to one of my nipples, I held my breath and arched up to meet him. He was teasing me and it was the sweetest torture I'd ever experienced. Eventually, I couldn't take the teasing anymore and surprised myself with a begging moan.

Something feral in him seemed to take over at hearing me fall apart in his arms like that and he finally closed his mouth around one of my nipples, lavishing it with his tongue. His erection pressed against my leg seemed to grow and I wrapped my legs around him to draw him closer to me, desperate for friction after the sensations he was sending down to my core with his ministrations on my breasts.

Finally, my hands reached to the top of his pajama pants and started pushing them down along with his boxers. He stopped what he was doing and raised his head to look into my eyes.

"Katniss…" he breathed out, almost questioningly.

I knew he wanted this. Probably had for some time now. But he would never put his desires before mine. Fortunately, our desires finally matched. I wanted him. I wanted more of what he was making me feel. I wanted him to have all of me. There was no hesitation when I replied, "I want this, Peeta."

I half-expected him to protest, but judging by his desire pressing insistently against me, he didn't. Instead, he helped me push his pants down and then assisted me in shimmying out of my own panties.

We laid there for a moment after the last articles of clothing had been removed between us. I made myself aware of every inch of my bare skin that was touching his. His forearm holding himself up that grazed my shoulder. Our legs pressed against each other. And his manhood pressed against my core.

"Katniss, I…" he fumbled. "I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing here," he admitted meekly.

I smiled at his humility.

"I don't either," I chuckled.

"So we'll figure it out together?" he asked, planting a languid kiss on my lips.

"Together," I replied breathily. Feeling my desire surge as I prepared myself for what would come next.

It was a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but after some adjustment on my part and some gentle prodding on his, he finally slid into me with surprising ease.

He groaned deeply, throwing his head back.

"Oh, God, Katniss," he said. "You have no idea...how long I've wanted this…"

And I realized with a sudden clarity that I'd been wanting it too.

"Me too, Peeta," I replied, running my hands up his clenched back.

He didn't question me, but instead locked eyes with me as he began rocking into me. I'm sure there was a part of him that wanted to completely unleash and thrust into me with abandon, but he maintained self-control and made sure that I was comfortable too.

"I'm sorry," he began, panting as his pace increased. "I won't last long."

"That's okay," I responded and then gasped loudly.

Peeta stopped, looking stricken.

"What is it?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! Don't stop! That felt amazing," I replied, squeezing my legs around the backs of his thighs to encourage him to keep going.

He immediately obliged and before long, we were both moaning into the night, our voices carried out of the cracked window and into the snowy air.

Before long, we were both reaching our climaxes, Peeta thankfully having the clarity of mind to pull out at the last second and releasing onto my stomach instead as my body endured the effects of the rush.

When his was done, he collapsed beside me and pulled me over onto my side to hold me close to him.

We laid like that for a little while, catching our breaths and feeling our muscles relax and our bodies melt into each other.

Suddenly, after I was sure he'd fallen asleep, he quietly asked in an unsure voice, "You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real," I replied, almost before he'd finished asking the question.

His arms wrapped around me tighter and I could feel him smiling even though I couldn't see him. We fell asleep like that and neither of us had any nightmares.

The next morning, we slept late, which was rare for either of us. So it wasn't much of a surprise when we heard Haymitch pounding on the front door. Even though he would never admit it, I knew he worried about us from time to time. Especially when I had my depressed days and Peeta had his occasional episodes.

I groaned at the rude awakening, wanting to lie in the warm bed, cuddled up naked next to Peeta. Maybe even have another go at what we finally did the night before. I felt heat creep up my neck at that thought, but couldn't help the guilty smile.

Haymitch pounded loudly on the door again and I could hear him yelling for us. Peeta shifted and smiled when he saw I was awake. His eyes had never sparkled like that before.

"Good morning," he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," I replied, kissing him softly, but I could feel the restrained desire on both of our parts.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash downstairs, effectively snapping the tension between us. Peeta sat up quickly, throwing the covers back and scrambling for his clothes, not wanting Haymitch to barge in on us in our post-love-making state. I burrowed under the covers when I heard footsteps on the stairs and knew I wouldn't get dressed in time. I didn't even get to appreciate watching Peeta, naked, trying to get dressed because of Haymitch. Damn him.

Thankfully Peeta managed to get his pajama pants back on, nearly falling to the floor when they caught on his prosthetic leg, then threw a robe on before he marched out of the bedroom door and shut it firmly behind him.

After hearing a loud but relieved sigh from Haymitch on the other side of the door, he let out a stream of expletives, angry that we hadn't responded. I couldn't really be upset with him, though. We always brought breakfast over to him when we were done eating, and normally that was hours before now. We had scared him. I could hear Peeta interjecting where he could to explain, claiming that we had been up late decorating the night before.

Haymitch let out some more angry words before he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter.

"What?" I heard Peeta demand. I sat up in bed to hear better.

"Is that a hickey on your neck?" Haymitch asked in between bouts of laughter.

Peeta spluttered to reply before Haymitch said, "Up late _decorating_ , huh?"

My face grew hot with embarrassment.

I missed the rest of the conversation as the blood pounded in my ears. Haymitch must have left because the bedroom door opened suddenly and Peeta rushed in to look in the mirror above the dresser.

He pulled the collar of his robe away to reveal more of his neck. Even from where I was sitting on the bed I could see the reddish spot on his neck where I had apparently left my mark last night.

I cringed again that Haymitch had seen it.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

Peeta turned around with a sigh and shrugged. "Oh, well. You know he would have found out somehow anyway.

I nodded, knowing he was probably right. As much as Peeta and I tried to keep certain things about our lives hidden from Haymitch, he always figured them out.

I had vaguely hoped that we'd find ourselves tangled up in bed again, but thoughts of Haymitch were too prominent now, so I rose from the bed and opted to take a shower to wash away the stickiness. Peeta did end up joining me and we had a bit of mild fun in the shower, mostly just kissing and touching, but when my stomach growled loudly, he finished washing himself and exited the shower, saying he would make us "Christmas breakfast." Peeta always made good breakfast, but knowing how important this first Christmas together was, he would somehow make it special.

I took my time washing myself, trying some new soap so I could surprise Peeta too. When I had dried off, dressed in a warm red sweater and comfortable pants and braided my hair, I quietly headed down the stairs, being careful of the creaky step.

I quickly and silently rushed past the kitchen and headed down the hall into what used to be the study. This room used to harbor the ghosts of my nightmares. President Snow's presence had lingered even after his death, manifesting itself in the white roses. But over the past few weeks, instead of hunting in the woods, I'd discovered a new form of therapy. With a deep calming breath, I had entered this room for the first time in months and began cleaning it out. Haymitch had caught me trying to haul out the desk one day and even offered to help. Now nothing of the past lingered here anymore. Only glimpses of the future. I couldn't wait to show it to Peeta for his Christmas present.

After I finished making sure everything was ready, I headed back to the kitchen where Peeta was setting the table. I sat down, inhaling the delicious smells of cinnamon and peppermint. He had made French toast, eggs, sausage and coffee that he added peppermint syrup to along with some cream. It was all delicious and I told him so with a deep, sugary kiss when I'd concluded eating.

We opted out of cleaning the dishes for now because we were both too excited to give each other our Christmas presents. He insisted that he give me mine first, so I finally agreed and let him lead me to the living room where our Christmas tree was decorated beside the crackling fire in the hearth.

He reached into the tree's branches and pulled out a small box, tied with silver ribbon.

"Merry Christmas," he said, kissing my cheek and handing me the box. I felt the sparks tingle between our fingers as I took the box from him. Beaming in anticipation, I tore off the ribbon and open the box. My mouth fell open when I saw the pearl inside. _Our_ pearl. The one he gave me on the beach in the Quarter Quell. I gently pried it out of the box, finding that it was attached to a silver chain.

He'd made it into a necklace. I didn't even realize that I was crying until a tear slipped onto my finger.

"Do you like it?" Peeta asked anxiously, seeing my face.

My throat was too tight to answer so I looked up at him and nodded enthusiastically. I couldn't believe that he had remembered the pearl. That he knew where I kept it in my nightstand drawer, keeping it safe because it meant so much to me.

"I love it," I croaked out.

He beamed. "Do you want me to help you put it on?" he asked.

I smiled widely and nodded, turning and lifting my braid as he took the necklace from me and looped it around my neck.

I fingered the pearl now resting against my chest and said, "I won't ever take it off."

He laughed, not realizing how serious I was. What that pearl represented to me: him. His love for me. And the love I now returned.

"Now it's your turn," I stated, wiping the tears from my eyes.

I took his hand and led him to the room - the old study. He seemed confused. He knew I hated this room. But when I opened the door, his mouth fell open similarly to the way mine did when I saw the necklace.

I'd turned the room into an art studio. For him. I'd contacted Effie in the Capitol and she sent me a vast supply of canvases, which I'd set up on various easels around the room. She'd also sent me dozens of paint colors and brushes, which I'd organized on the new shelves I'd hung up on one of the walls. I'd torn down the dark, dusty curtains to allow in as much sunlight as possible. I wanted this room to be associated with happiness. No longer burdened with shadows of darker days. But to represent the beginning of a new life - together.

I realized the presentation of Peeta's new art studio had the same effect on him that the pearl had had on me. His eyes were glassy and he was wiping at the tears as they fell down his cheeks.

"You did this, Katniss?"

I nodded and squeezed his hand tightly.

"For me?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I replied with a smile.

"I...I don't know what to say,"

"For once," I replied with a laugh. Peeta always knew what to say, so I was feeling a bit proud of myself for rendering him speechless.

He released a watery laugh and pulled me to him to hug and kiss me warmly on the mouth.

"Thank you so much, Katniss. I already know what I want to paint first."

"What?" I asked, pulling away to look into his ocean-blue eyes.

He gave me a suggestive look and said, "You'll see."

That comment somehow led to us making love again right there in the studio. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was so exhilarating that neither of us cared. I was glad that the first memory we made in this room was an act of deep love, because the love we had for each other was what healed us and chased away all the darkness we'd endured.

So, after, when he contentedly asked me again, "You love me. Real or not real?" I truly understood the promise I was making when I told him, "Real."


End file.
